Noisy
by wickedsingularity
Summary: [One shot, self-insert] (This one is very personal to me.) I am going through a rough time and Steve comforts me when it becomes too much.


_A/N_

 _This one is very personal to me. I've been having a rough few days after four long weeks at work and then a rollercoaster vacation trip, and for once I wanted to try writing it out of my system and this is what came out. It's a self-insert for that very reason. I was all alone and I so wish I had Steve with me through it. So I guess the summary is... I am going through a rough time and Steve comforts me when it becomes too much. Found some prompts to get the writing going._

 _DO NOT READ if you're not sure you won't be triggered, I feel like it's full of the ugly things in my brain. Also, apologies for posting this so soon after all the wonderful fluffy stories for Steve's birthday, but it's July 5_ _th_ _my time zone now, and I just need to get this out of my system. Finally, I'm trying to write more in the POV style I wrote it when I first started 15 years ago, and I like it better this way, I write better this way. So yeah._

* * *

Grunting and loud smacks echoed off the walls with each punch. The room was so big and the ceiling so high not even all the different training appliances were enough to mask the sound. The tape covering her knuckles were wearing thin under the assault. Small spots of blood became visible, they grew every time they mad impact with the heavy bag of sand in front of her. The voice in her head was shouting and focusing all her energy on the inanimate sparring partner was the only thing that made it shut up for a bit.

 _No one listens to you. No one cares._

Punch, punch, punch. The bag swung ominously on its peg.

 _You've always been second-rate. Always pushed to the last in line. Always overlooked._

Martine had been at it for just over an hour and sweat was dripping from her body, her clothes were drenched and her blonde hair was plastered to her head. She could have probably gone for hours if Natasha and Wanda hadn't come in. Before they even had time to say anything else than hello, she'd stilled the boxing bag, and began unwinding the tape from her hands with her water bottle under her arm on the way out. With a cheery smile in their direction, she left to shower.

 _There's no place for you anywhere. Always shuffled around because no one knows what to do with you._

The voice wouldn't go away. Echoing inside her head, rambling on about nothing worth listening to, but she had no choice. It was all she could do not to clap her hands over her ears and start shouting "lalalala". The ice-cold shower didn't scare it off. Watching mindless TV snuggling with Steve didn't make it go away.

 _No one cares. People got better things to do than bother with you. No one cares about you._

She shook her head slightly, screaming back at the voice. _You're wrong. I know people care about me._

"Something wrong, doll?" Steve asked, his fingers dancing up and down her arm. He knew her so well.

"Noisy brain," she mumbled. "Nothing to worry about. It'll go away eventually."

 _Everyone is getting their life together. Everyone accomplishes something. What do you have? You try and try but you get nothing._

"Did something happen on the mission?"

She just refrained from sighing, masking it as a deep thoughtful breath instead. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Steve tightened his arm around her for a second and kissed her temple. "If you need me to help you quiet the noise, just let me know, okay?"

"I will. Thanks, love." She turned to him with a smile she hoped reached her eyes and gave him a quick peck before returning her attention to the TV. The mission had gone fairly well, but lives had been put unnecessarily at stake. She'd told them what would happen if they didn't change the plan, again and again, but no one would listen. As usual.

 _No one wants to hear what you have to say. They'd rather die._

Martine was convinced a good night's sleep would cure it.

But it didn't. She acted fine in front of everyone, going about her day working and exercising and writing mission reports as usual. She didn't fool Steve, but he respected her enough to pretend as well. He did check in on her every once in a while, though. She couldn't begin to explain how grateful she was and she wanted to tell him, but she was starting to believe the voice. _He didn't really care._ As the day wore on, the painful lump grew in her throat and her own thoughts had taken over for the voice and she didn't like it one bit.

They didn't have their own seats around the dinner table, but they tended to sit down in the same seats. Today Sam had taken her seat and she swallowed a sigh. _I'm always the one who has to be shuffled around, no room for me anywhere._ Wanda offering her the last doughnut after dinner. _Yeah, give me the leftovers so you don't get fat._ A text from her mom telling her about some news about her cousin. _Yeah, everyone else gets rewarded for their hard work except me._

She took an early night and crawled into bed, hoping to fall asleep before Steve went to bed and she could analyse everything and convince herself that he'd rather be anywhere else.

* * *

The third day since the mission, Steve went on his usual morning run. He didn't like leaving Martine behind. She'd slept so restlessly, tossing and turning all night. But even though he needed the daily run for his sanity, he just had a feeling he should be home. So, he kept it short, ran just long enough to work up a light sweat.

The closer he got to home, the tighter the knot in his stomach became. He rushed through the compound and the hallways, and the moment he opened the door to their rooms he knew something wasn't right. His enhanced hearing picked up on sobs and the second the door closed behind him they went quiet. "Doll?" he called out. She didn't answer, but he swore he heard her choke down another sob. Hear racing and a frown on his face, he wiped a few droplets of sweat from his forehead and strode quickly to the bedroom.

There he found her on the bed, her back to him and curled up like a ball. Her shoulders were shaking slightly, her breaths strained. She swallowed audibly and managed to croak out: "What?" Even if she had managed to hide the pain in her voice, she couldn't fool Steve for anything in the world.

He walked to the other side of the bed, saw her red puffy eyes, her arms tight around his pillow. "Martine?"

She looked up and saw his warm blue eyes that held so much of the love and comfort she needed so desperately and she broke again. She heaved, sobs sounding harsh and so clearly out of her control. Steve fell to his knees as his heart broke for her, his hands reaching for hers. One of hers unclenched from his pillow and twisted to hold his and he pulled it to him and kissed her still bruised knuckles. Her hand squeezed his in time with another sob making her teeth shatter.

Steve let his free hand move to her cheek, thumb wiping at the stream of tears rolling down and over her nose and onto his pillow. "Sweetheart, what's going on?"

She wasn't able to answer. Her teeth ground together and her eyes were screwed shut, yet the flow of tears didn't stop.

"It's okay, love." Steve gently reached for the pillow and removed it from her grasp. She made a disagreeing sound but didn't put up a fight. He tossed the crumpled thing to the floor and stood up. Then he reached for her and picked her up as easily as anything and sat down on the bed with her in his arms. She was curled up like a baby, head tucked in by the crook of his neck, fists clinging to his damp shirt. One of his hands moved up and down her back, making soothing circles, while the other held her firmly against him. "You're alright," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I'm right here. It's okay, it's okay."

For a long while, Martine sat in Steve's arms. Her body shaking and him rocking her gently. The only sounds in the room were her choking sobs and his whispered reassurances. He had hoped she would have talked to him before it came to this, but he was also glad the dam had burst so she could get better.

Eventually, she stopped shaking, her breathing calming down. Steve could still feel the occasional tear fall to his chest and hear her sniff.

"Headache." He was happy she had found her voice again, even if it was croaky.

"Do you want me to get you some water?"

Her head shook against his neck. "Don't leave."

"I will never leave you. But you need to rehydrate." It was a long moment before he felt the movement of a nod. He gently lifted her off him and laid her down in the middle of the large bed. He picked his pillow off the floor and laid in under her head. "I'll be right back, okay?" She nodded, and he kissed her temple.

He rushed out of their room and into the kitchens. A few of their fellow Avengers were beginning to gather for breakfast and Rhodey glanced questioningly at his wet t-shirt and drawn face. But Steve just shook his head and found the coldest water bottle he could and hurried back to his girl.

"Steve..." she mumbled when he came into the bedroom again, sounding almost like a question.

"Yeah, I'm here, sweetheart." He sat down next to her and helped her sit up a bit so she could drink. Half the bottle was gone almost before he knew what was happening. She sighed and he imagined the cool water felt good against a cried-out throat.

"Do you love me?" she asked. Her voice sounded so timid and childlike and his heart broke all over again.

He sat the bottle down on the bedside table and took her face in both his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Yes," he said firmly. Her green eyes darted between his blue ones. "I love you. More than anything. Where is this coming from?"

She twisted her head out of his grasp, so he slid down and brought her with him. Arranging her so she had her head on his chest, she'd said so many times the sound of his heartbeat was soothing. For a long while, she didn't say anything and he was wondering if she'd fallen asleep. But then she began talking. Told him about everything her brain had convinced her of. What she thought had triggered it. What she had been feeling. What she had told herself. How much she hated herself like this. And then waking up after a dream of her past and finding Steve not home.

"I'm sorry, Martine. I'm so sorry. I had a feeling I shouldn't have gone anywhere today." He spoke against her hair.

"No, don't apologise. You have to do your thing. I knew everything my brain said was a lie. I have so much proof of it being lies. But I couldn't... I'm just being stupid."

"You're not being stupid. It's been too much the past few weeks. And you've had your fill. Our job is hard and it does things to us and I'd be worried if it didn't affect you."

She tightened her arms around his torso. "Love you," she mumbled.

"As your captain, I'm ordering you to take the day off. I am too. Got that, FRIDAY?"

" _Noted, Captain Rogers._ "

"Look at me, doll."

Martine lifted her head and supported herself without stabbing him with her elbows. Her eyes were still red and puffy and filled with the pain of the past few days, and her short hair was a right mess, but she was so beautiful to him he had to swallow before continuing.

"You are so loved by everyone in this compound. We are all here for you, just like you are always here for us." He paused and took a deep breath. "I love you. I never want you to think you're anything less than my top priority. You're the one I'm fighting for when I put on that suit."

Tears welled in her eyes again, but her lips quirked up in a smile. She stretched and pressed her lips against his, a couple of tears falling and making it taste of salt. When she pulled away, her green eyes had gotten back a bit of their spark. "I don't know what I would do without you, Steven Grant Rogers."


End file.
